


Case by Case

by emerald_cities



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Art, Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald_cities/pseuds/emerald_cities
Summary: One person in a holding cell in lieu of another and neither really belong there.Combeferre isn't manufacturing drugs. Neither is Enjolras, but Enjolras' future isn't wrapped up in a test 24 hours from now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audiopsychic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audiopsychic/gifts).



> prompt: "a look at enjolras's self sacrificing tendencies (could be modern or canon era)"
> 
> ughh this is v short. I hope you like it though, even though it's like. an intro

Enjolras walked out of his seven a.m. class, frowning at the dark circles under Combeferre’s eyes.

“How late did you stay up last night?”

 

Combeferre winced. “About 3:30. I’ve done worse, but I swear morning classes are going to kill me someday.”

Enjolras nodded. “Alright. Just make sure you…” He trailed off, looking over Combeferre’s shoulder at the moving police cars on the road behind him. “...That you get enough sleep tonight, if you’re testing tomorrow.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow as the three cars slowed to a stop.

“‘Ferre?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Those public disturbance charges were cleared, right? I didn’t have to pay that fine?”

“Yes, when you brought it to court, it was declared completely within the regular noise levels of a public gathering.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t robbed a bank recently, have you?”

Combeferre smiled. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well then, I really can’t think of any other reason we’re being tailed by the police. Behind you.”

 

Combeferre turned. When he made eye contact with one, the officer stared at him, his mouth twitching downwards.

“And I don’t think they’re here for friendly banter, either. Enjolras, are you sure you didn’t organize the revolution without me?”

Enjolras, however, was staring another officer down, his demeanor losing the easy nonchalance of before; his entire presence became tense.

“Combeferre, you know I would never do such a thing. If you’re marching behind me when we overthrow the government, you know I would at least inform--”

“--Sir, if you would please put your hands where we could see them,” the leading officer spoke.

Both students snapped their heads to the new speaker.

“ _What-_ ” said Enjolras.

“I’m sorry,” said Combeferre. “What are the charges?”

“Drug possession, drug manufacturing, drug trafficking. If you would please, sir, put your hands behind your head--”

“-- _What_. What?” Enjolras broke in. “No. You’re talking to him? No, he didn’t do it. On what grounds are you--”

“--It was concluded, _sir,_ ” this time pointed at Enjolras, “that your man here matches the profile of the suspect in the ongoing case against the drug ring on this campus. His dorm was searched. Enough evidence was found to warrant his arrest.”

“You _searched_ his--? Wait, no. Wait.” He looked at Combeferre’s bookbag, the DNA keychain hanging off of its side. The test tomorrow, that Combeferre couldn’t miss. He looked to his face; Combeferre shook his head, quickly. He was _innocent_ , he knew that before, but he knew now, and he would spend too much time in holding, too much time waiting for a lawyer. Enjolras leaned back “No. We’re roommates. Dormmates. Look at the school records. It wasn’t him. I’m the suspect here. I’m the person you need to take in.”

“The evidence was found under his bed!”

His mouth thinned. “I put it there. I framed him. Putting something where it doesn’t belong isn’t _that_ difficult.” Combeferre glared sharply at him. _Like hell you did._ Enjolras stared back, deadpan.

“We have orders to--”

“You have a confession and you have evidence against me. Take. Me. In.”

The officers glanced at each other; Enjolras could see their indecision.

“If,” he added, “you’re worried about my friend here escaping, I know you’re able to monitor him for a short period of time. He will be in Mackenzie hall from 8:00 am until 2:00 pm. This can be verified by school officials. So can his presence.” As he spoke, he scanned the officers; the one in the back was young. He looked unsure; Enjolras spoke to him. “It’s not justice to take in an innocent for crimes I committed. Combeferre’s a biology undergrad on track for med school, who’s writing his senior paper. He’s not the person you’re looking for.”

The junior officer wavered. Enjolras smiled internally. He stared him down. _Believe me, dammit_ \--

“I think he’s right. We should take him in.” _Yes, you should._

\---

This wasn’t his first time being brought to a holding cell. It was, however, the first time that time he was being charged with a felony. A major felony, a major felony which would be difficult to prove wasn’t him (even though it _wasn’t_ , but it _wasn’t Combeferre,_ and what the _hell_ was going on!), a major felony which would--

Wait. What the hell _was_ going on? He wasn’t manufacturing drugs. Combeferre wasn’t manufacturing drugs. Neither of them were dealing drugs, either, unless Combeferre was paying off college debt in a way Enjolras didn’t know about yet, he thought jokingly, but only so, because med school was stricter than high school sports when it came to that. So why were there drugs in his room?

Well, that was the crux of the issue. Maybe they weren’t there, he thought, but he quickly dismissed it. The officers were too sure of themselves. The stuff wasn’t theirs, but it was there, so was it dropped? An accident?

He wanted to consider it, but Hell would be ruled by a rabbit before a drug manufacturer lost their equipment in a genuine mistake.

He leaned his head against the wall; he was too tired for this. Tracing his hand through the concrete dust, he looked at the question again. _Why?_ He could only think of one scenario--that they set up, on purpose. But even then, it was difficult for him to figure out any motive. There were easier ways to convict people for a crime than this; from what he knew, what was found in their dorm couldn’t be procured overnight. Or over a month, even. Similarly damning evidence was cheaper and easier to produce, with less risk to whoever did it.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door was opened by two officers.

This wasn’t the first time that he had been in a holding cell. This wasn’t the first time he was questioned by Inspector Javert.

This was, however, the first time Javert looked like he didn’t believe him.

\---

“What,” said Javert, placing the pictures on the desk between them, “are these.”

“Those,” said Enjolras, “are pictures of the crime scene, of which I am--”

Javert put his hand up. “Don’t say it. I know that you aren’t guilty. Don’t say that you are.”

“Woah, woah, hey now,” interrupted Enjolras. “What makes you--”

“Last year. You were brought in for vandalism and theft, in place of Gavroche. Six months ago, you were arrested for assault. I talked to Courfeyrac, I know you did it in his defense, that you refused an investigation, that you purposely refused an investigation. You’ve done more work for your friends than I can name. This isn’t out of character for you.”

“Well, I could…” Enjolras tried to lean back. “I could be a drug dealer. Manufacturer. Whatever. I’m… _allegedly_ guilty. What makes you think that I’m not?”

Javert only stared at him and raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras stared back. Then he grimaced. “Alright. You have a point. I didn’t do it. But Combeferre didn’t do it either, and it’s better that I’m here tonight than he is.”

“So Combeferre was the original suspect.”

“I would hardly say original, neither of us put the stuff in the dorm. He can’t be the first person you’ve investigated. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” Javert studied Enjolras’s expression. Once he focused on his eyes, he grimaced. They were shadowed with purple. “When was the last time you slept more than 4 hours?”

Enjolras furrowed his eyebrows. That wasn’t a good sign, Javert thought, that he had to think about it. Either it was too long ago, or he was tired enough that recall was difficult. Probably both.

“Thirty-seven hours?”

Javert internally winced; he remembered his earlier days working for the police, and the long nights were not what he remembered fondly. “Go home.”

“What?”

“Your bail has been paid. Eat some food. Get some rest. Preferably 8 hours or more. You’ll need it.”

“I’ll need it?”

“You’ll be meeting me here at nine a.m. tomorrow. We need you for the investigation.”

“That soon? Really?”

“Yes. We have to learn what we can while we can. Is there anyone available you can call?”

“Yes, uh…” Enjolras searched his pockets. Right, his phone was in the temp locker. “Do you have Grantaire’s number on file?”

“I believe so. You want me to call him?”

Enjolras sighed, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “That would be. Good.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

\---

After Javert left, Enjolras drifted in and out of consciousness for ten minutes or so, against the backdrop of voices outside of the holding cells. Eventually, he heard a familiar one, talking to what seemed to be Javert. Grantaire was here. He opened his eyes.

\---

“Grantaire.”

“Yes, Inspector?”

“Take him home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they found who did it and all lived happily ever after =)


	2. Request 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius meets the Amis de l'ABC for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't at all related to the one before it, but this way both requests are in one fic :^D
> 
> prompt: "god i love these sweet children let them be friends,,"
> 
> Me: Ok! let's draw something about how they meet. That definitely, fulfills the prompt

[](https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipMbk7KVVtmEHU8XWnPiwcBxnHscE6gQik5KDXwY0NyEFH_6-mUyluaTJwDMUzaAzw?key=eE1OcVdoand1VWE1RVJEdmlhMmR4WVh0WlFOcmNn&source=ctrlq.org)


End file.
